Cannibal Adventures
by crazybitch7
Summary: the quirky duo harvest organs from passers-by
1. Chapter 0: Prologue, Part 1

"Clarence is everyone's dog. Every time he gets up and out of his cubicle to get a coffee or use the bathroom or even just stretch his legs, he will always walk by a coworker that asks him to bring something back. And then another. And another. He's their waiter, their servant, their slave; that guy that would kindly fetch them what they need without them having to show a shred of respect or an inkling of courtesy, and all because he hopes for such things." Hannibal smelled and thought about the blood on his hands. "It's a pity."

"It sounds sad," Will Graham effortlessly stated without emotion.

"It is a problem that can no longer be ignored, and must either be solved or removed. All beings are knots in the fabric of space-time, and if there is always more fabric to spare, one may choose to burn through a knot rather than to spend time attempting to untie it." He turned around and opened The Box. Inside was a rope. He picked it up and tied two knots on it. "Are you ready, Will?" He asked to Will, who nodded in return. Hannibal held up a lighter and burned through the first knot, and then proceeded to untie the second knot as slowly as he possibly could, to prove his point even more.

"Neat-O. You're correct. And I still can't believe these janitor disguises are working. We're fucking mopping carpets and we have front row seats for whatever you have planned."

"I have equipped Clarence with a semiautomatic submachine gun as well as the willpower to use it. After the power goes out, the muzzle flash from his gun will be the only light in his sea of darkness, one that will extinguish his demons. And we will have the great honor of being able to take all the organs we can fit into this makeshift cooler trash can. But first we must go to the janitor room and hide there until the storm is over, the place only janitors know about." Hannibal opened the janitor door, with his mind.

"You really are a god. But sometimes I hate the way you speak. It makes me think about slitting your eyeballs open."

"Mind your manners, Will." Hannibal motioned will inside, and then positioned himself inside as well.

-To Be Continued-


	2. Chapter 0: Prologue, Part 2, First Half

"It should be just a few moments now," Hannibal said with his ear pressed against the wall of the janitorial closet. He ran his fingers in circles over the cracked paint. "This wall reminds me of the warmth of a woman."

Will paid no attention to Hannibal, as he was training his skills with a mop for future combat.

"It's good to see you aren't listening," Hannibal remarked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few human chips.

"It is," Will replied. "Are those chips for sale?"

And then a bang. Bang. Bang. Screams rang throughout the floor, futile cries pleading for mercy, or for help.

Hannibal's annoyance with Will turned to excitement from the noises outside. "That must be Clarence. He'll be done any moment now. He may even offer himself up to our pallets without us having to interfere."

"Are those chips for sale?"

Hannibal frowned. "Do you have any money?"

Bang.

"Your renowned therapeutic skills are a costly service."

"You're saying my therapy is too expensive."

Bang.

"I'm saying that the price of your therapy is your patients' soul, and that I'm out of cash." Will flipped open his wallet, presented its wet and empty crevices to Hannibal, and slapped him on the face with it, just like a pimp.

"One of these days I'm going to shit in your pants and frame you for it," Hannibal growled. "Here's some human chips." He held out two chips to Will.

"Just enough to make it plural," Will said while sighing.

"Yes."

Will bit a fraction of a piece of one of the two chips. "When I eat like this, there are more chips available."

"Yes."

Bang.

-To Be Continued-


	3. Chapter 0: Prologue, Part 2, Second Half

"Everybody is dead, and now I am going to kill myself!" Clarence aimed: the weapon, at all of his face. With his finger, he pulled the trigger. Streams of blood and bits of brain and skull shrapnel flew out of what was now a hole in his head. He assumed the mannequin posture and fell backwards.

"That's our cue." Hannibal was very good at hiding his excitement, which you should be able to infer from my writing. He opened the door, revealing to he and Will nearly a dozen bodies, many of which did not appear to be fully dead, despite being painted red. They walked into the main room and looked around. Hannibal set his gaze on the remnants of Clarence, and cast a look of disgust toward it. "He lied to us. We'll have to finish what he did not."

"Looks like he had a mindblowing orgasm," Will observed, admiring the spatter patterns.

"He once told me that blood is the only bodily fluid he wished people would excrete. For whatever reason." Hannibal tilted his head to the side and began to try pondering. "Can you imagine what it would be like to jizz blood all over Dr. Bloom's face?"

"I guess it would depend on who's blood it was and if there was anything wrong with it, like infections or diseases or sickle cells. Nobody likes sickle cells."

"We should take some of this blood."

"Yeah."

Hannibal and Will took all of the bags they could find, and bagged up all of the blood that they could bag up, all of the blood inside and outside bodies. The alive people were deadened by this procedure.

"There's no room for organs."

"Oh well."

(doesn't really matter who said either of the last two lines because like both of them just want blood)

With their backpacks on their backs and their fannypacks on their fannies and their knapsacks on their knaps. They exited the room, and the whole building, carrying all of the blood back to Hannibal's home. Unfortunately, because Hannibal had become lax in his time management skills, he had spent too much time being a serial killer, and not enough time being a therapist. As soon as they walked into the home, they were greeted by none other than Mason Verger and his bitch sister, who had been waiting on Hannibal to treat them with his therapy treatment.

"Hello! I'm Mason Verger. I like pigs." Mason introduced himself.

"You need no introduction, Mason." Hannibal retorted.

"Aw, aren't you kind~ :3"

"You need no introduction. I already know who you are."

"I like introducing myself." Mason took off his face and reintroduced himself as the real him.

-To Be Continued-


	4. Chapter 1: Meet The Vergers

"I never asked for this," Mason Verger snapped, blood flowing from his face. He pulled out his knife and began to stab Hannibal's furniture. "I'm going to need your help trying not to feel the PTSD."

"It was indeed an unfortunate incident," Hannibal said gently, holding back his laughter. "I will also do my best to help you lose all the weight."

"Thank you. And it was, and I will indeed forever be even more disturbed, but thankfully I can just put it right back on." Mason put his face right back on. "You should see the tears I get out of children pulling that trick. Like the other way. Taking it off."

"You do look like a fucking zombie," Will observed/agreed, a statement which was met with hearty laughter from everyone there.

"Indeed!" Mason exclaimed enthusiastically. Everyone was still laughing, and then soon they were not.

"Come, let us go upstairs so I may feed you blood coffee." Hannibal pointed toward the place in his home that he wanted them to go, and they went, with him.

* * *

Mason was making out with his bitch sister on Hannibal's couch next to Hannibal's fireplace. Will was standing by, watching them, empathizing with them, throwing books into the fire.

"Oh Mason," Margot purred.

"Bitch," Mason growled. He pulled back from her, removed his face, and placed it on her face. "Now you look like me. You look better. You've got a bloom." He resumed making out with her.

"Hot," Will said, watching them, his hand in the fire. "I understand."

Hannibal walked in carrying a tray of 4 coconut halves containing a brown murky liquid, akin to that of diarrhea. Mini-umbrellas and citrus fruit slices lined the top of each drink.

"This is blood coffee." Hannibal set the tray on his desk and waved the other three over. "It is a dark drink, made with the finest coffee beans from South America, mixed with a few shots of blood that Will and I brought back from our most recent outing, as well as some cranberry juice. The umbrellas and fruit slices are there to make the drink seem more refreshing. Enjoy."

The three scrambled over to Hannibal's desk, tripping over each other, drooling at the thought of the blood coffee. By the time they got there, there was nothing left to drink.

"I'm sorry, Will. I drank all of the blood coffee. Can you forgive me?" Hannibal showed no remorse.

"If you can make me another, yeah.." Will fidgeted around on the floor like a seizure person.

"I will do that. We have so much blood." Hannibal knew he was correct.

* * *

After drinking all of the blood coffee that could be made, the four realized that they had drank too much blood, and began to vomit blood on one another. There was nothing that could be done about it.

-To Be Continued-


	5. Chapter 2: Meet Jack

"We've all been compromised," Will said, examining the vomit (puke) on his clothing, "and I know exactly what to do." He huffed and he puffed and he blew all of the vomit off of everyone, and everyone was clean.

"Thank you Will," Hannibal thanked. "Remind me to employ your skills again in the future."

"I'd like to be able to do that."

Mason looked at his bitch sister and paused for a second, admiring the beauty of his own face. "We should leave. I wanna show you my little piggy."

"I'm Margot," Margot said, imitating her brother's voice. The two sprinted toward the door and left.

"Getting inside their heads is a real treat when I can do it right." Will adjusted his pants. "I'm doing it now."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Then another. And another. Hannibal didn't know which door to answer. The sound spread like a virus throughout the house, until the knocking seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"This is some surreal shit," Will inferred. "I know you like playing God, Hannibal, so handle it."

"Come in!" Hannibal bellowed. "Come in! Come in! Come in! Come in!" He assumed the fetal position and began to convince himself.

"I'm coming in now," boomed a bass voice from behind the front door. "I must."

The two looked at the front door.

"I'm behind you," boomed the same voice, this time from behind them. "It's Jack Crawford! I've been working on my teleportation. Decided it was a good decision to mess with your head."

Hannibal smiled. "Pretty snazzy, Jack. Neat trick. I bet you get all of the ladies. Also because you have a big black cock." He inserted some human meat masquerading as pork into Jack's mouth.

"You've always reminded me of my father. Sometimes I wish you were." Jack sucked up all of the succulentness without bothering to savor it. "Anyway, all comedy and meat aside, I'm here on business."

"Business. Murder." Will pretended to not enjoy murder.

"That's right, Will. You know I don't care about the risks you're assuming; get used to it. I need you to get inside this dude's head. This is some important shit. You are the chosen one. The fate of the city. Destiny."

"You have all of my words that I, Will, will willfully take this as seriously as it needs to be taken seriously."

"There was a depraved maniac named Clarence who shot up an office about two hours ago. I wouldn't normally be interested in something as typical as this, but all of the blood was gone. From everyone. All of it. Bodies all dried up like raisins. I'm thinking there are some vampires out there who did this."

"You're probably right," Hannibal said. "It's vampires. People don't drink blood unless it's from their own injuries, or from family."

"Exactly. That's all I needed. Goodnight." Jack disappeared.

Will breathed deeply, all over the place. "That was a close call," he fell to the floor. "We ate all their blood. Are we vampires?"

"No, Will. Vampires do not exist. We are serial killers." Hannibal squatted next to Will, and pointed at his face, his finger barely grazing Will's eyeball. "We are serial killers."

-To Be Continued-


	6. Chapter 3: Meet Elana

Author's note: This chapter sucks.

Elana Bloom poured water over the cannabis plants in her backyard. For her patients. She licked them, to ensure that they were loved by nobody else.

Without any expectation, Jack Crawford warped into her garden. "Hello, Elana."

Elana jolted upright. "Hey, Jack," she said, and walked over to give him a hug, which was denied. "What brings you here?"

"Business. I'm afraid that Will and Hannibal are vampires pretending to be humans, or something near that."

"Cool, let's smoke some weed." Elana ripped off a fat nug from a nearby plant, inserted it into Jack's mouth, and lit it on fire for him.

"This is illegal." Jack inhaled. "We won't be able to focus on the case."

"Yep. Here, drink this, for the cottonmouth." She handed him a glass of liquid drink: alcohol. Jack put his mouth to the glass, took a sip, and then swirled his tongue around inside the glass to taste it correctly.

"This is good shit," he stated, relighting the weed in his mouth. "So, are you still banging Hannibal and Will?"

"I never banged Will."

"Why not?"

"I dunno." Elana put on her thinking cap. "I've always thought that Will has wanted to murder me ever since he tried to give me a free abortion."

"Tried?"

"Well I wasn't pregnant, he just punched me in the stomach over and over telling me that he was doing 'God's work.'"

"Lemme try." Jack began to punch Elana in a stomach, over and over again, a lot. "I really don't understand the value in this."

"Stop it, nigger." Elana presented to Jack a knife, that could cut. "This knife could cut."

"Cool, let me see it," Jack said, and he reached for the knife, but his arm was not long enough.

"Nope." Elana began to hover in the air, and maneuvered her way over to the knife chest, where all of the knives are found, and deposited it. "You cannot have this knife, or any knife."

"Now my arm is even more not long enough, and I cannot have any knives," Jack observed. "This is purgatory."

"Indeed. I gotta fly," she said, and she flapped her arms, rose into the air, and flew away. Jack stood, or sat—you decide—and watched her depart. As she took off, he couldn't help but reminisce about the times he would tie rats to RC helicopters as a child.

"There's something not right here." Jack warped away.

-To Be Continued-


	7. Chapter 4: Fireworks

Will Graham sat on top of a chair and puffed on his nyaope blunt, waiting for Hannibal to return with his surprise. He never knew what Hannibal was going to show him next. It could be an animal tusk, or a song, or an organ. Excitement boiled within him, until he could no longer contain himself, and he exploded in his pants posthaste.

Hannibal walked in. "Here's dinner." He threw a bag of McDonalds at Will.

"Fuck you. God damn it." Will looked down at the bag, and saw Ronald McDonald's smug fucking face staring back at him. "Shit, why are you eating fast food?"

Hannibal smiled. "I'm not. I'm very careful about what I put into my body. I'm having Chick De Romano Soufflé Supremé Grandé Deluxé."

"Why can't you feed the food to mé,"

"Because you haven't met your kill quota for the week." Hannibal sighed. "Will, these meals require resources, and now that you have committed to offing passers-by, I simply wish that you would give me some meat to work with."

"You have like 40 corpses down in the basement."

"Yes, but I simply wish that you would give me some meat to work with."

Will stood, walked over to the fireplace, and cast the bag into the fire, which promptly exploded, creating a blast radius in and around the fireplace equivalent to 4πr2 with r being equal to 5. "Whaaat."

"Surprise! I got you fireworks. And you've squandered them." Hannibal was happily disappointed. "I thought you would've been less mad," he said, spin-dancing.

"You lied to me." Will told the truth.

"Yes, but I simply wish that you would give me some meat to work with."

Will stood, walked over to the door, and cast his hand at the door handle to open it. A fourth attempt at this yielded success. "You're a broken goddamn record," he said, watching Hannibal rotate.

"And I love you." He spun faster.

"And you owe me more fireworks."

"Yes, but I simply wish that you would give me some meat to work with."

Will slammed the door behind him. There was no reason for him to stay. He was fed up with the way that Hannibal manipulated his emotions, and with Hannibal's bloody blowjobs. His last memory of the place was slamming the door behind him just a moment ago, which was just described a moment ago. After slamming the door behind him, Will walked down the sidewalk, past frozen trees with snow-laced branches, and also past his old English teacher, Mrs. Misses, who lay dead in Hannibal's yard. "Looks like you got schooled," Will said, remembering the time where he taught her how to slice her own fingers off, a class she passed with flying colors. "I wish I could have taught you so much more."

Then it hit him. He was a serial killer. He could teach anyone he wanted to do anything.

-To Be Continued-


	8. Chapter 5: Father

Will Graham wiped the sweat from his brow and cracked his fingers, because he needed to. After what seemed like and what was literally hundreds of knots, he sat back and gazed at his creation: severed body parts, organs, and strangely-shaped chunks of meat, each individually tied to a number of helium balloons, all ready to be let go at once with a pull of the string Will held, in his holding hand. There wasn't even a mess to clean up, because all of the blood was already gone.

"If there are no further questions, I bid you adieu." Will pulled the string, and at once the flesh blimps floated upwards into the sky, bobbing and dipping in the wind, ready to begin their new lives.

"I didn't get to teach much," Will said, standing up, "but I have avenged my father!" He turned and walked over to his dead daddy, looked at it. His father's corpse stared back at him, lifeless eyes with pupils. Will picked him up, not hesitating to disregard any possible form of gentleness in the act.

Once they arrived at the nearby Class 1 FS209E cleanroom, Will proceeded to perform the sacred ritual. With his father on the operating table facing north, he assumed the Mockingbird fighting stance, the absolute first thing his father taught him as a child, and began to honor him in compliance with the ways of his people, a lengthy procedure.

After cleaning up the mess, Will decided that the best thing for him was to return home, crack open a beer, fellate his canines, and spend the rest of the night sleeping. The past two days had been quite a spree for him, culminating with a total of 9 victims. With about 20 flesh blimps possible to make per body, and 9 bodies available, Will was able to send off a grand total of 180 flesh blimps. How many flesh blimps could Will have sent off if he had killed 12 victims? Show your work below.

It was morning. The alarm cock raped Will's ears relentlessly, jizzing hot buzz sounds all over his head and body. He nodded his head to the beat like a wolf cub in heat, then made some wheat meat and hemorrhaged internally like it was neat. Before he knew it, the morning was gone. "Thank fuck I have this alternate personality to do all of my chores for me, but maybe I should see Hannibal so I don't go insane in the wrong way."

-To Be Continued-


End file.
